


Which Way I Flie

by kelly_chambliss



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelly_chambliss/pseuds/kelly_chambliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noah Lessing, a disgraced crewman from Equinox, explores his feelings about Voyager and Captain Janeway.</p><p>Written in December, 2003.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Which Way I Flie

**Author's Note:**

> Historical Background for "Which Way I Flie" (with SPOILERS): In the two-part episode "Equinox" (Seasons 5-6), Janeway discovers that another Federation starship, the Equinox, has been stranded in the DQ. To get home, the crew has been murdering sentient aliens and using the bodies to make fuel for the ship. Determined to capture Equinox's captain, Rudy Ransom, Janeway tries to extract information from one of the Equinox crew, Noah Lessing.
> 
> In one of the most memorable scenes in Voyager canon,she responds to Lessing's refusal to cooperate by offering him a choice: either he can tell her what she needs to know, or she will lower the forcefield and let in the angry aliens, who will surely kill him. Lessing still won't talk, so Janeway lowers the forcefield. In come the screaming aliens. At the last minute, Chakotay drags Lessing to safety.
> 
> At the end, after Ransom and the Equinox are destroyed, Lessing and the few other surviving Equinoxers are added to the Voyager crew.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You aren't hungry. You haven't been hungry for weeks.

On Equinox, you were starving. On Voyager, food sickens you.

You aren't hungry, but you stand in the mess hall with your food tray, scanning the tables for faces that won't close when you approach, eyes that won't slide away if they meet your gaze.

You want. . .you need. . .to make contact with these people. First contact, fifth contact, one hundredth contact. However many it takes for you to be accepted by this Voyager crew. You need to be accepted.

You can't sit with Gilmore and your old cohort; you don't want to remind the Voyagers that you come from Equinox. From hell.

"Noah. Um. . .over here."

It is Harry Kim. You make him nervous, but he is kind and friendly; he means to help you. You head toward him with what you hope is a smile.

Others are with him. Torres. Wildman.Wildman's child. Paris, who nods neutrally. "Lessing," he says.

You doubt they want you, but they are polite. They ask you questions; you answer. You try to find a balance -- smiling, but not too much; talking, but not too much. Friendly, but not desperate. Not desperate. You are normal.

Please god that you are normal.

"You've been with us a month already," says Kim heartily. Too heartily, you fear. "Feeling settled yet?"

"Yes," you say, smiling again. "I'm grateful to be here." You don't know if you should say more; it might still be too soon. But you don't know how much longer you can wait.

So you plunge ahead. "I just want you all to know.. .how much I appreciate. . .and how sorry. . ."

"Noah, we know. Forget it." Kim is embarrassed. Or disturbed. He does not look at you.

"Yeah, forget it, Lessing. It's history." Paris. Reserved, but not unfriendly.

Not unfriendly.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You are on Voyager, but you have never left Equinox.

They come screaming in the night. The aliens you killed. A whine fills the air and the fissures open and they come toward you and they are screaming and you are screaming and you can't, finally, separate their screams from your own.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

But in the day, you smile. You work. You volunteer. You don't presume; you never presume. You make yourself quietly indispensable.

They accept you at the mess table now; your place is kept empty for you. They think of you as more Voyager than Equinox.

You make yourself eat.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sometimes it is not They who come in the night. It is She. She comes and stands before you, and suddenly you are back in that cargo bay, your hands locked behind you, your eyes locked with Hers.

Your ears fill with Her calm voice. You almost wish for the alien shrieks.

She tells you that you make your own hell.

You already know. You have been in your own hell for a long time.

And you can tell from Her pitiless gaze that She has been even longer in Hers.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In the day, She is the captain. She treats you no differently from the rest of the crew, but you are not naïve enough to assume She accepts you. She is in command; She can afford to be courteous.

She comes into the mess hall.

"Captain," says Neelix enthusiastically, "Mr. Lessing has been helping me around here, and he has an idea."

She turns toward you. Before you can look away, you catch a glimpse of her face. Her expression is pleasant and interested and you can't bear it.

You glance down quickly, fixing your eyes on Neelix'sshoes.

"Tell me," She invites.

"It's about long-term food preservation, Captain," you say. You hate yourself for sounding apologetic, but you cannot stop. "Some thoughts I've had about genetic modification; these DQ plants respond pretty well. If I could spend some more time in Hydroponics.. .I mean, with Mr. Neelix watching me. . ." You trail off, your breath gone.

"Excellent," She says, unmindful of your discomfort. "We can always use new ways to extend our supplies."

She puts her hand briefly on your shoulder. Her touch sears your skin.

"Good work, Mr. Lessing."

You could almost believe She means well by you.

As long as you don't see the hell in Her eyes.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You dream of shore leave, of being away from Starfleet and Voyager. You remember the last time you were on a planet, when Captain Ransom and the Equinox still lived, before your reality was defined by Her.

The planet was peaceful and sunny. You thought of your sister and your childhood and your home.

You were happy.

On the planet, you did not hear the aliens.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It is for the chance to leave Voyager that you try so hard to make Voyager your home.

Getting off the ship is all you have lived for since you got on. You cannot stay here. This ship, this crew -- all belong to Her.

You think that if you can make the crew accept you, if they come to depend on you. . .if you can do as She once demanded and earn Her trust. . .then they might take you on an away mission.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They joke in the mess hall, grumble about the food.

"I'm afraid to eat this," says Lieutenant Carey, spearing a morsel and holding it up critically. "It's so old that for all I know, I could be swallowing some petrified piece of priceless archaeology."

The others laugh, and you probably laugh, too, but you don't hear yourself. You still haven't gotten used to the idea that these people have so much food that they can complain, even lightly, about its quality.

On the Equinox, you were grateful for any food at all. But on Voyager, with its abundance, you have a hard time eating. Somehow everything tastes to you the way the aliens smelled when you transformed them.

That's how you think of it -- a transformation. Not a death. Merely a change -- a simple shift from one corporeal form to another. An almost-natural progression.

But this almost-natural transformation had an odor you can't forget. You smell it again in this food.

"Fear not, Carey," says Harry Kim. "Archaeology may be saved after all. Neelix thinks we might be reaching a supply planet soon."

They pepper him with questions, but he can add no more. "Give it a rest," he begs finally, holding up his hands. "Chakotay asked Neelix to prepare a supply list. That's all I know."

You ask nothing, but you listen to all.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

At night, you think of the supply planet. You think of ways to get yourself assigned to the away team. You think of how you will feel when you stand on the transporter pad and watch Voyager fragment into a column of sparkling light.

But mostly, you think of what you want to do when you are off this ship, Her ship.

~ ~ ~ ~

You want to take Her to hell.

Not the hell of Her own making, but a new one that you will create just for Her.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You are walking down the corridor when it happens -- the aliens come screaming into your day.

One minute you are talking to Ensign Xhokha; the next minute the walls open and you hear them.

And you see them.

"Get down!" you shout to Xhokha, but she just stands there, staring at you, and then they are gone, and there is silence.

"Lessing? What is it? Are you all right?"

She acts concerned, but you know now that she is against you, that they are probably all against you, because there is no way in hell -- yours or anyone else's -- that she did not hear them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The screams are always with you now.

But at night, sometimes, you can quiet Them by thinking of Her.

You think of how you will go on an away mission, and you will scout out a hidden place where you can take Her.

Then, somehow -- you will think of a way -- you will separate Her from the others and you will entice Her to that place.

And then. . .well, you will have many options, because you will be the one in command. You envision yourself hitting Her from behind, hard enough to collapse Her, and while She is unconscious, you will force Her into a chair, lock Her hands behind Her back.

When She comes to, when She lifts Her head and sees you and understands where She is, you will say to Her the words Her first officer said to you when you were the one bolted in that chair:

"The Captain's on her own."

She will know what you mean.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It has happened, you have done it. You are in that place with Her and She sits before you, wrists shackled, and you see the fear in Her eyes, but you will not let Her look away, you know exactly how She feels, how Her throat is more than dry, how She imagines Herself already desiccated by Them, how the only liquid left in Her body is in her bowels.

You see that She cannot speak, but it doesn't matter. You are She and She is you and so you say to her what she said to you on that day in the cargo bay: "I want it _now_."

You both know what "it" is. "It" is whatever thing you cannot give and yet cannot _not_ give. . .

"I want it _now_ ," you say.

And you answer. "Or what?" You speak for Her, putting in her mouth the same words you spoke to her that day. "Or what? You'll hit me?"

And since you are She and She is you, you do hit Her, hard, across the face. The crack of your hand on Her flesh is not as loud as the screams. But it will do.

"We all make our own hell, Captain," you tell Her. "I hope you enjoy yours."

You lean toward Her, and She flinches away. No doubt she believes that you will rape Her, that you will violate Her body the way She violated your mind.

You are disgusted by the way She thinks. You know you would never do such a thing, would never sink to Her level.

You are not like her. You are not.

But She does not know this. She does not see the differences between you and Herself. She does not understand that you are only _in_ hell.

While She is of it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The alien shrieks suddenly surround you, and She disappears. You find yourself sweat-drenched, your heart hammering, your eyes staring into darkness.

You are in your quarters, on Voyager. You slowly realize that you have been traveling only in your mind.

But you do not despair. You have always known what you needed to do. And now, you know you will be able to do it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It is day. You are in the mess hall with Carey and Wildman, and Neelix is standing at your table, announcing the approach of the supply planet, and you hear him say, "Mr. Lessing, what would you think of learning how to be a space trader? I can always use another good bargainer on supply missions. Tomorrow. 0800 hours. Meet us in Transporter Room One."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You spend the night thinking of Her. You realize that this away mission may have come too soon, that you may not have the chance to enact your plans. Perhaps the circumstances will be unfavorable; perhaps you will not find a suitable place.

But if not tomorrow, then one day. Now that you know you can do it, now that you know you are in control, you no longer feel the need to rush, or even to leave Voyager. The ship is yours now.

You think about staying: it will amuse you now to watch Her give you orders, thinking She has broken you, thinking She holds your hell in Her hands, not knowing who is really in control until She meets your pitiless gaze.

Perhaps you will even change your mind about how to proceed. Perhaps you will not give Her the dignity of trying to resist you. Perhaps you will wait until you return to Earth, wait until She ventures out alone. Then you will follow Her to some out-of-the-way corner, and you will let Her see you for only a moment before you snap Her neck, dropping Her carcass unheeded to the ground.

And it won't even be a murder. It will merely be a transformation. You will simply be shifting Her from one hell to another.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You have many options to consider.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

At 0758, you leave your quarters and head for Transporter Room One.

 

The End

 


End file.
